It'll Get Better
by Baje Barra
Summary: Elyan didn't want to meet Mithian the first time she came to Camelot-he didn't want to know who'd be replacing his sister. After Gwen is crowned, when Mithian visits a second time, everything might just change for the better. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys :D I'm back!**

**Okay, so finding out Mithian was going to be in season 5 made me super happy, because it meant that there's hope for this couple, which I've always wanted to happen for some reason (even though I doubt it will). I think Elyan is one of the most underrated characters on the show, and his scenes in Have Been and Could Be were some of my favorites to write. I thought he and Mithian would look just perfect together, so I wrote this little fic.**

**It's gonna be a two-shot, and I've got most of the second part written already. Anyway, doubt anyone will read this, since I think I'm the only shipper of this pairing on the whole site, but think about it ;D (btw, HOLYGOD I loved the first episode...S5's gonna be awesome, guys. More dreams to come.) **

**Read and Review!**

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It'll Get Better

The first time she came to the castle, Elyan didn't go meet her. He had just been possessed by the ghost of a druid and wasn't feeling especially welcoming.

He hoped Percival would join him and skip the celebrations but, even though Percival was Elyan's best friend, he didn't know Gwen well enough to be upset by the arrival of the Nemeth Court. He also didn't want to let Arthur down. Which left Elyan stuck with Gwaine.

_Gwaine_ didn't mind letting Arthur down.

Normally, being alone in the palace with the drunk knight for a whole day would have irritated him, but he could tell something was off this time. Underneath the laughing pretense of trying to cheer Elyan up, Gwaine seemed pretty upset himelf.

They were playing dice on the floor. Gwaine was flat on his stomach, and Elyan sitting up, forearm and clenched fist against his knee. After a few rounds that failed to distract them, Gwaine's eyes darted to meet his opponent's. "He won't go through with it, you know," he said off-handedly.

Elyan snorted. "Won't he?"

"No. Gwen's still out there, so he won't do it."

"Gwaine," Elyan closed his eyes and exhaled, "I really don't want to talk about it."

So Gwaine shut up and threw for a few more rounds. When they saw the sun start to sink through the window, he stood, letting his dice drop unceremoniously to the ground. "She'll come back, someday," he sounded sincere, even though Elyan didn't look at him. "Everything will be alright."

* * *

Before the banquet, there was a knock on the door. "Elyan?" the king's voice called out from behind it.

Elyan straightened in his chair. "Come in, sire," he answered, keeping his eyes down. He'd known it was only a matter of time.

The door creaked open and King Arthur's blonde head peeked in. He looked so uncomfortable, Elyan almost wanted to laugh. "I hope I'm not disturbing you," the king said haltingly.

"You're not, sire," Elyan replied. He couldn't help staring straight into Arthur's eyes. It had the desired effect. Arthur flushed and looked down at his feet as if he was ready to bolt at any moment.

He didn't, though. Instead he cleared his throat loudly, and looked back up. "I…came to ask whether or not you changed your mind," he began, "—about making an appearance at dinner this evening."

It was Elyan's turn to look down and away. "If it's all the same, sire," he said slowly, "…I think I'd rather stay here."

Arthur nodded after a pause. "I understand," he responded. His voice sounded as if it was trying to hold itself steady. Elyan didn't know what else to say. "If you want, I could send Merlin up with a plate for you?"

Elyan blinked.

"Only if you want," Arthur amended quickly, "—it's just that we're serving a roast chicken with cranberry, I caught sight of it earlier and it looks delicious and I didn't think you'd want to miss it."

After feeling stupidly mute for a few moments, Elyan nodded. "Thank you, sire."

Merlin, tight-lipped and just as upset about the whole situation as Gwaine had been, brought him his dinner and Elyan did his best to finish it all. For the next few days, he made every effort to stay away from the path of the Nemeth Court and its princess.

He hated the way his ears perked up at the gossip about her, but he wanted to know who it was taking his sister's place. They said she was beautiful. They said she and Arthur seemed to like each other a great deal. They said she was a lady.

They said her name was Mithian.

He caught sight of her just once—her back was to him, and he only saw a pale golden veil covering long, shining waves of hair that played the light through the windows.

Arthur didn't go through with it, and Elyan felt suddenly better than he had in months since Gwen was exiled. The princess left straight away. He forgot all about her until half a year later, after Morgana finally lost her crown one last time.

* * *

_Knock, knock, knock_.

"Come in!" Elyan called absently, rolling up his sleeves. He wasn't even looking at the door when he heard it swing open and slam shut immediately after, "…Gwen?"

His sister was standing there looking straight ahead, back against the door, panting for breath.

Elyan raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Hiding," Gwen snapped, eyes darting across door as if she could see through it.

"…What from?"

"Not that it's any of your business, Elyan, but the Nemeth Court just arrived," Gwen's voice sounded higher and faster than usual. He hadn't seen her this nervous since the first time she went to the palace to work as Morgana's maid.

"So?"

"_So_ I have no idea what to say to the woman Arthur almost _married_ after he exiled me, and no idea what to say to _Arthur_ about the whole awkward situation, and I decided I don't want to have to be in the same room with _either_ of them a minute longer than is necessary."

"Oh," was all Elyan could think to say.

"Not until dinner, at least," Gwen amended quickly, dropping her eyes and biting the inside of her mouth, "…I'm sorry. Merlin's out running errands for Gaius. Otherwise I'd go hide in his room like I normally do."

That apology stung more than it should have.

There was something very surreal, Elyan realized, about seeing Gwen dressed in her finest royal robes and standing in his room, rambling like she was still his sister the blacksmith's daughter. He'd hardly been alone with her since she was crowned, since after he cried to see her still alive.

"Have you met the girl yet?" he asked after a long and sufficiently uncomfortable pause.

Gwen sighed. "No."

"I haven't either," he blurted out. She turned to stare at him. "When she first came to Camelot I…I stayed inside at her reception."

Gwen's entire body seemed to tighten, and something dark passed through her eyes. "That would mean more, Elyan," her voice sounded strange, "…if you didn't also stay inside when you could have come to say goodbye to _me_." Ignoring his widening eyes, she opened the door. "I'll see you at the banquet."

And before he could say another word, she checked the hallway for the Nemeth princess, found the coast to be clear, and shut the door behind her.

* * *

She had every right, Elyan thought, as he sipped absently at his wine. Every right.

It was a gorgeous evening, and the feast a success. The people of Nemeth and the people of Camelot seemed to have very similar customs and dispositions, so all of the visiting courtiers chatted easily all throughout the meal. Percival and Leon had fun taking alternating jabs at Gwaine to make the Nemeth knights they sat with laugh, and Gwaine played off every joke well. If Elyan weren't so distracted, he might have rather enjoyed himself. Gwen's words, however, wouldn't stop replaying themselves over and over again in his head. _When you could have come to say goodbye to me_.

Arthur, Gwen, and the Nemeth king and princess were sitting at the head of the table. Elyan kept glancing their way, but only noticed the first two—Arthur looked happy, if not a little uncomfortable, trying to make the best of his awkward situation. Gwen was smiling, but Elyan couldn't tell if it was genuine or not.

He had absolutely no idea when he lost her so completely.

But that thought was interrupted by something even worse.

A familiar fire slowly rose and clenched in his chest. Subtly as he could, while Gwaine was distracting the rest of the knights' table with a balancing-goblet trick, Elyan left the table and then the banquet hall. _Perfect timing_, he realized—the dancing was just about to begin. There was no way he could look a girl in the eyes and smile, not now, not until it went away.

His steps carried him fast away until they reached the nearest opening to the balcony. As he swung the doors open, welcome blasts of cold air grabbed at his sweating neck and started chilling the links of chainmail weighing down his chest.

The fire spread, snaked to his stomach, to his eyes…the cold air he gulped gratefully in did its best, fought the quivering heat with all its might while Elyan's hands tightened around the stone rail that kept the balcony closed to the sky, kept those on it from falling…

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought no one was out here, I didn't mean to disturb—are you alright?"

A ragged gasp escaped Elyan's throat and his eyes shot open. "Fine," he breathed, blinking fast, clearing the spots in his vision before turning around, "I'm just fine—" he stopped dead. The girl standing there, staring at him, was lovely.

She was also the Nemeth princess.

"F—forgive me," Elyan stammered, darting his eyes away from her probing ones and bowing his head formally, "I apologize, princess."

"You were here first," the girl said, sounding almost amused. Elyan, realizing that the dizziness had gone, lifted his head. The smile on her face looked hesitant, but real enough. "What on earth would you apologize to _me_ for?"

Elyan managed a weak grin. "Habit, I suppose. There always seems to be something I should apologize for."

If that was an attempt to distract her, it didn't work. "Is everything alright?" she asked, narrowing the eyes fixed on him. They were large and dark and not the sort of eyes that could be lied to.

He twitched his head no, turning away from her gaze. "Not something fresh air won't eventually cure," he said. It was as truthful as he was going to get.

No princess needed to hear about Morgana's snakes.

She didn't need to know that he had been safe and sound behind the palace walls for months since, but still sank to his knees at every black shadow that slid around every hallway corner…

The princess's fine eyebrows lifted slightly. "And is it working yet? The fresh air?"

"Better than a perfume-dense castle," he replied without thinking. A small laugh, like a surprised bell, escaped her mouth. And Elyan felt…something odd, a _grin_, quirk his own lips.

He told a joke. He couldn't remember the last time he did that.

The grin, though, was from watching her, and the way her eyes crinkled as she laughed.

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**...to be continued :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**WOOOWW the second part of Arthur's Bane...can't believe how excited I am.**

**Anyway, the Elyan badass scenes in that ep made me feel the need to post the second part. Unbetaed. **

**Hope you guys like this, and that you please Read and Review!**

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It'll Get Better

"I really do hope I'm not intruding," Mithian glanced back over her shoulder at the entrance she came through "—but would it bother you terribly if I were to stay out here? It's a lovely night, and you're right, there is something magical about the fresh air," she stared up at the cold stars and they reflected in her eyes when they met Elyan's entranced ones again. "Seems a shame to lock up inside with all that perfume, doesn't it?" she asked, still smiling.

Words momentarily escaped him, so he stretched out an arm and gestured over to the railing, inviting her to stand beside him. He couldn't help but notice the strong way she walked and how her skin almost glowed against the moon. Mithian, he remembered. Mithian. Elyan felt seized with the strange desire to say it out loud, try out the sounds and syllables on his tongue.

Then he wondered exactly when he'd gone insane.

"I don't believe I've ever heard the word 'magical' used to describe something good before," Elyan suddenly said. It was the first thing that came to his head, and the second it was out his mouth, he wanted to grind his forehead into his palm.

But Mithian didn't look offended. "Oh, that's right. For a moment, I forgot we were in Camelot. Yes, it's a saying in Nemeth, as well as elsewhere."

Elyan thought first of Morgana's snakes, but then their writhing image was overtaken by that of the boy, the druid boy, whose young ghost let him go.

Magic.

It was too much a part of Elyan's history to know nothing of.

"Out of curiosity," he began, "—exactly _why_ is it a saying?"

Mithian stared out over the kingdom, into the bustling of the lower town, and replied, "Well, I suppose whenever they see Knights of Camelot coming by, they hide, but every so often a travelling sorcerer will come through our gates back home." She had a voice that could glide across the air, cultured and sweetly clipped. "They can make fires dance and can cure broken butterfly wings—I don't know if it's blasphemous to say it here, but the magic they do is stunning."

Shocked that he managed to keep the response _So are you_ to himself, Elyan shook his head wryly. "No, can't say sorcerers like that ever make their way here."

"I assume you've been on the receiving end of a curse or two?" Mithian asked rhetorically.

One of the black snakes, forever lingering in his chest, lashed up and snapped in his mind. "Or two," was all Elyan said, feeling himself darken again. She'd go back inside now. He was depressing company, she'd been polite and could excuse herself now and find a cheerier dance partner—

—which was why he couldn't believe it when her voice sounded out again. "You'll have to forgive me, Sir Knight," Mithian said, turning to face him completely with a direct gaze, "…but I'm afraid I missed your name at the introductions inside."

Slightly astounded she cared what his name was, he cleared his throat, held out his forearm and bowed over it, the way he was taught to over two years ago. "Sir Elyan, my lady…" he said and, feeling a little ridiculous, he straightened right away. "Elyan, if you prefer, actually."

Mithian's face went from amused to startled, eyes widening too much before she blinked. "Elyan? Then you're—Queen Guinevere's brother?"

"She doesn't like to remember that, but yes." _A simple nod would have sufficed, what am I saying?_

Mithian's eyes flickered again, this time with intrigue. "Are you always so blunt, Sir Elyan?"

Elyan laughed. It felt unfamiliar to, almost shaky, but welcome beyond words. "No, not at all. I can't seem to keep my mouth shut right now."

"Good," Mithian nodded curtly, turning to face out over the rail again. "That makes for the best kind of talk." Elyan glanced at her to find she was definitely still grinning. It was contagious. "To be honest, actually, I need that kind of talk. None of us knew what to say to each other inside…" He knew what she meant, so she trailed off, shaking her head before clasping her hands together and facing him cheerily again. "Now. Why would Queen Guinevere not like to be reminded that you are her brother?"

Elyan's gaze searched the lower town, lighting on the house he and his sister grew up in. Honesty. Mithian preferred honesty. "Have you ever felt entirely out of place?" he asked abruptly. The princess looked surprised, quizzical. "In your home, in your family, in anything you were told was a part of you?" he pressed on, hoping she didn't think he was talking nonsense.

Mithian thought for a moment, and he watched the recollections pass over her face. "As a child I always wanted to be a boy."

Elyan's eyebrows nearly leapt off his forehead. "What?"

He could have sworn that was a smirk on her face. "Oh, not exactly, I just wanted to do all the things I thought boys got to do, like hunt and go on adventures and wear steel dresses instead of velvet ones. And rule kingdoms," at Elyan's confused frown, she amended, "That was always my older brother's place. Not mine. Yes, I know what it is to want something your told isn't yours." Mithian's eyes softened with the memories and then turned back again to Elyan. "What was it for you?"

Elyan felt laughter light his own eyes again. It felt incredible. "Nothing so much as a kingdom. I shouldn't even tell you now, it'll pale in comparison."

"Will it?" Mithian challenged. "Try me."

"Within my family," he said, and it was as if the lingering swell inside his chest lightened with every word. All the while, he felt Mithian's eyes on him while his own slid back to that old house. "My mother died when Gwen and I were younger. Apparently, I was more like her. My father and Gwen were both hardworking, sensible people. They were grounded and I just couldn't stand still. Before he died, my father and I fought all the time because of it. I was always disappearing, chasing after one scheme or another, I…" he trailed off into a chuckle suddenly, and glanced at Mithian to see her chin lifted expectantly, "—I suppose I wanted to go on adventures, too."

He loved the way she smirked almost conspiratorially at that. "And you get that chance every day now, is that right?"

"Being a knight has its benefits." Elyan replied, trying to feign seriousness and failing miserably.

A star winked in Mithian's eye as she answered, "I suppose it does."

Elyan held off the somber part of the story for as long as he could, but he couldn't get around answering her question without that ugly bit of history. "I wasn't here when he died," he said softly, trying not to clench his fist in shame, "I'd run off again. And when I came back, after Arthur knighted me, Gwen finally made her first mistake…while we were growing up, she didn't make many of those. She had to leave, and I…I didn't say goodbye to her," the truth dropped out of his mouth and landed like a stone. Mithian kept quiet and still—he had the feeling she was holding her breath. "I don't even know why I was so angry, but that doesn't even matter now. I was weak when she needed me. I let everything _I_ felt get the best of me—" …_just as I've let so much get the best of me. The water. The curse. Morgana. The snakes…_Elyan blinked and snapped his eyes back to the princess, who didn't looked exactly shocked, but wasn't smiling anymore. "I'm sorry, I—shouldn't have gone on like that—"

"Don't apologize, sir," Mithian interrupted. Her voice wasn't unkind, but it wasn't sweet, either. It was firm. It was to be obeyed. "You had more to say. Please don't hesitate."

"I…" Elyan gaped at her before he turned away and nodded, trying to find the words for it, "—I don't blame her. Gwen. I don't blame her for finding it hard to call me her brother. I haven't acted like one. I don't even think I'd blame the knights if they stopped thinking of me as one of _their_ own. I've let them down the same way. I'm still just as unreliable as I used to be. I'm out of place in that court for a reason."

Mithian waited a long time before speaking, the whole time which Elyan felt like he was catching his breath after running a marathon, trying to slow his heartbeat down. "When we go back inside, Sir Elyan," he could have sworn her eyes softened, "…you should take a better look around at that court you feel so out of place in."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Everyone_, _Elyan. _Everyone_ in that banquet hall felt out of place, I can promise you. _I_ certainly did." And, without warning, Mithian grabbed his wrist and led him with an imperious stride back through the entryway. Elyan stumbled after her, feeling drenched with candle warmth as the heavy balcony doors shut with a thud to block the wind's passing. They kept walking until Mithian stopped so abruptly that he almost slammed into her, behind one of the stone pillars that cast black shadows before the banquet hall. Elyan had a perfect view of everyone inside, yet he and Mithian were invisible to them in the cover of the pillars, and he couldn't help wondering if those who built Camelot added the pillars specifically so they could spy on their guests.

"Don't you see it?" Mithian whispered.

And as Elyan scanned the hall and the friends he thought he knew so well, he _did_ see.

Gwen and Arthur, at the head table, were both smiling as they spoke to the Nemeth King and Prince next to them, but when Elyan narrowed his eyes he saw Gwen turn her head away several times to the far wall just to bite her lip. Arthur kept looking down at his plate and clearing his throat before speaking to his guests, and whenever his gaze found Gwen, an expression so complex that Elyan couldn't translate it shot through the King's face. Merlin, too, behind Arthur, had an unfocused look to his eyes, as if he were somewhere else entirely.

The Knight's table was no different. Percival kept frowning at Elyan's own empty seat, looking as if he was almost ready to stand and look for him. Gwaine, Elyan realized with a pang, was clenching the table's edge with one hand so tightly as if to choke it, while his other hand trembled to hold his goblet. Leon, though the most relaxed of all his friends, still kept drifting his eyes up to the head table where the Prince of Nemeth sat. Elyan couldn't understand why until he remembered that must have been Morgana's chair, once upon a time.

"I don't know much about what happened to this kingdom in that last months," Mithian's steady, quiet voice broke through his mind, "…but it sounds as if everything changed for Camelot. For your home."

Elyan nodded, eyes fixed on the scene before him as if they'd been blind for years. "It has," he breathed.

It had. Not just because of Morgana's second attempt, the one that almost succeeded in destroying them for good. Gwen was queen, now. Blacksmiths could become knights and princesses could introduce themselves to them. And magic. Magic, apparently, could mean something beautiful.

_After so much fear, so many snakes around our necks…maybe we can't believe everything could change? That it could finally be getting better?_

"Thank you," he said abruptly. Mithian looked a little surprised, but that made her gorgeous eyes wider and Elyan smiled at it. "I needed that," he said, more quietly now, "…I can't believe I forgot about them."

"Everyone needs to be shaken out of their own head every once in a while," Mithian hid her shock at being thanked smoothly. "No thanks necessary, Sir Knight."

Elyan suppressed a smirk and shook his head. "I thought you preferred honesty."

It might have been his imagination, and the dark made it harder to tell, but he thought he saw a pink blush stain her cheeks. "Yes, you're right. I did," she conceded.

"Then I am honestly compelled to thank you."

After a moment, Mithian nodded. "You're welcome, then," she said before he saw her gaze drift to Gwen. "And since I'm bound by the same code of truth, I suppose I should also say that I think you're wrong about your sister."

Elyan frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I don't think she's as different from you as you always thought," she elaborated, examining the queen in the crown that Elyan suddenly realized could have been Mithian's own, "I can't see Arthur marrying anyone _that_ grounded," she continued, a wry twist in her voice. "Whatever mistake she made, if she could survive going off on her own that way, then maybe she craved adventure as much as you. She's a queen, now. Ruling is an adventure of its own as well."

For a moment, Elyan felt a wonder that left him wordless. "I never thought about it that way," he finally said.

Mithian looked back at him. "I've long since stopped envying my brother's duty to the throne," she said quietly. "The amount of responsibility he has to contend with…believe me, it's nothing worth jealousy. Even if you haven't been there for your sister in the past, it's not too late. She's a new queen, and she'll need all the support she can get. She'll need her brother."

_…And I'll need my sister_. The queen couldn't stand on her own. Neither could he. Elyan straightened his back and everything in his vision cleared. "And you, Mithian?" he asked, hearing a strength in his voice that hadn't been there before. Her eyes widened again. "What do you need?"

She looked stunned and, when she spoke, it was with a stammer. "I…I suppose…I need to stop imagining what it could have been like to call this place home," Mithian finished, averting her eyes the second the words left her mouth.

Elyan blinked. She was in gorgeous focus, as was the candlelight streaming from the banquet hall, the scent of the warm wine and plates, and the soft music too few were paying any notice. All of it framed Mithian beautifully, and Elyan suddenly held out a hand to her.

"Will you dance with me?"

Mithian's brow shot up. "But no one else is."

"Like you said," Elyan grinned, "—we're all out of place anyway."

The smile that curved wide across her lips was blindingly lovely. She took his hand and together they stepped out of the column's obscuring shadow, gliding into the light for all to see.

All conversation at the tables came to an abrupt halt. Every eye in the room shot to the foreign princess and the commoner knight. The scattered room suddenly seemed unified in a strange way by the strange sight of them, laughing with a happy nervousness that had to be believed.

Mithian met her family's stare while Elyan found Gwen's. Her mouth was parted and she the slight frown on her face was still, as though frozen. Elyan tightened his jaw and nodded, while she lifted her chin just barely. What the exchange meant, Elyan wasn't sure until Gwen also stood from her chair. She offered her hand to a surprised Arthur, who took it in his own and followed her with a look of wonder on his face as she led him to dance. Elyan stared at them and Mithian smiled while they whirled around again. Gwaine hopped up next, grinning broadly and nudging Merlin into dancing with Gwen's new maid before asking a pretty courtier for himself. Leon and Percival followed suit, looking about as uncomfortable as Merlin but hiding it well. The Nemeth knights did the same, trying to hide the fact that they were staring at Elyan as if demanding to know how he got their princess's attention.

Mithian caught it and smirked at him. Elyan returned it and twirled her around once again as the music picked up pace. Her hair and eyes caught the candlegleam and the hall was moving to the same tune and, finally, he wondered if they were all exactly where they needed to be.

The End.

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**I'm don't usually write this much happy. Hope it didn't suck, I honestly don't know what I'm doing. This took forever. Opinions and criticisms welcome, see all of you next time!**

**-Barra.**


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